


Getting to know you or how Rogers is introduced to the 21st Century

by KByrd



Series: Tourist in time [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 12:55:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2025891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KByrd/pseuds/KByrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a high ranking SHIELD operative, you'd think that lieutenant Hill would have better things to do than babysitting. But when it's Captain America who needs some support, she's tasked with helping him transition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Maria meets him mere days after the incident in Time Square that had so thoroughly pissed off Fury.

“Don’t underestimate him,” Fury warns her. “He’s gonna be a fish out of water for a while, but all reports mention that he’s smart so he’ll be angry and wary after that little stunt.”

“Yes sir.” 

Coulson is furious, practically begging by video link to be the liaison, to get a chance to step in, but Fury is firm.

“She has the skills to settle him down. And you’re on your way to another continent."

“I can delay my departure,” Coulson argues.

“I need you where you’re going,” Fury is adamant.

Maria isn’t so sure. Soft skills aren’t her forte and she didn’t grow up reading comics as Coulson had so she is woefully ignorant of the captain’s history.

She walks into the barracks in New York and sees him instantly. It isn’t just his body language that sets him apart, but something indefinable, a way of holding himself, wary, watchful.

She walks up and introduces herself.

“I was thinking we could go for a walk and grab a coffee?"

He nods curtly. “Sounds like a good idea.” Gruff voice, a bit raspy.

She offers him sunglasses.

“Is the sun brighter now?” he asks warily, taking them.

“Ah … maybe,” she answers. “I don’t actually know. I just thought after you’ve been inside for so long …”

“Thanks.”

They walk across the street and into the park to a coffee shop near the pond.

“How do you take your coffee?” she asks him.

“Um, black. Nothing in it.”

She orders him a dark roast and they take their drinks to a secluded picnic table. Throughout the walk he has been calm and collected, looking around with curiosity, but not obvious alarm. The mirrored aviator glasses hide his eyes, but Maria’s pretty good at reading body language. She’s pleased that he seems to have accepted the situation and isn’t obviously hostile.

“So, I don’t know how much you’ve been told about us …” she starts.

“Nothing,” he cuts her off. Speaking bitterly but without heat. “No-one’s told me much of anything so feel free to assume that I know nothing.”

“Well, I’m here to answer your questions,” she answers. 

He sips his coffee thoughtfully; she waits a moment.

“So what do you plan …?” he looks away. “I have so many questions, but I don’t know where to start,” he admits.

“Well, let me start then,” she suggests gently. “I’m Maria Hill, lieutenant with SHIELD, which is an arm of the government that deals with high level threats. We’ve agreed to step up and offer you the necessary resources and support to integrate into the 21st century.” 

He nods warily.

She talks; he listens.

She tells him what has been agreed to in a series of high level meetings about him. SHIELD will provide him with a sum of money – enough to live on and a regular ‘allowance’ for a year. He can stay at the barracks for as long as he needed. He can take courses at the local university or join some of the training programs … SHIELD would make experts available to walk him through what he needs to know to survive.

“For how long?” he asks.

“Until you tell us that you don’t need us anymore.”

She pulls out a cellphone. “Let’s start with the toys, shall we?” She gives him the cellphone and a small laptop and shows him how they work.

“And in exchange?” he asks.

Well no-one said he was stupid.

“Nothing at first,” she answers. “We owe you a huge debt. I mean all Americans do. Your actions drastically affected World War 2 and no-one has forgotten that.”

He quirks one eyebrow in a manner that will soon become familiar.

“Maybe later, we might ask if you’d be interested in joining SHIELD in some capacity or consulting or something,” she allows cautiously. “Our actions are not entirely altruistic, but those kinds of decisions and obligations can come later. Right now, we’re just here for you.”

“And if I want to change these arrangements …?” he asks warily.

She throws up her hands. “Seriously, we’ve just been brainstorming what you might want. If you want something else … just ask.”

He fiddles with the phone.

“OK,” he says. “Do I have to stay in New York?”

“No,” she answers a little surprised. “Is there somewhere else you might want to go?”

He frowns. “It’s hard to be here where things are so familiar, and yet so wrong.”

“Our main headquarters are in DC,” she suggests.

“Are you based here or there?”

“In DC.”

“Can I have an apartment to myself instead of staying in barracks?”

“Yes.”

He looks at her sharply as if he doubts her.

“Seriously,” she says. “Whatever you want. Think you can live on your own right away or will you need someone to help?”

He smiles. “I already asked about the flying cars and robot butlers. Very disappointing. Do you still have ovens and stoves or do you have fancy gizmos that do all the work?”

She sighs. “I should have brushed up on my sci-fi reading before meeting you. No, we don’t have robot servants. You’ll still have to do all the cooking. As far as I can think, only microwaves are really new.”

They hash out a plan and she asks him to send her a text to confirm that he understands how the phone works.

“Contact me if you need anything,” she urges him. “Really, any time, even if you just have a question.”

“OK.”


	2. Chapter 2

He calls her while she’s walking through the hallways. She answers without checking the caller ID and curses the silence.

“Hello?” she snaps. “Hello? Anyone there?”

“Ah,” a male voice says cautiously, “May I speak to Lieutenant Hill?”

In any other situation she would have snapped at him. Who else would answer her phone? But she keeps herself in check and manages to answer in a civil manner, “Hill speaking. Is this Rogers?”

“Yes,” he answers. “Is this an OK time to call?”

The hallway is crowded and loud; she is on her way to another briefing, her hands full of files. She takes a moment to assess. “Yes,” she lies. “Just a moment while I find a quiet place.” She steps into an emergency stairway and the noise level drops precipitously.

“Rogers?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you OK?"

“Yes, this isn’t an emergency,” he hastens to assure her. “But I am calling to see if we could arrange a meeting to discuss some … longer term issues.”

“Of course,” she promises. “I told you, any time. Well, any time that works with my schedule.”

“Yes, I’ve heard you’re a hard woman to pin down,” he says.

“When and where?” she asks. “Do you want to come to my office?”

“I’d rather have it be less formal,” he answers. “Would it be appropriate to meet over dinner? Say Monday at Plume?”

“The fancy pants restaurant on 16th street?” she checks.

“Is that OK?"

She is tempted to ask if he knows how expensive such a place will be, but she holds back. “I’m not sure,” she hedges. “I’m leaving on a work trip the very next day so I’ll have to work late that evening.”

“Nothing I have to say is time sensitive,” he assures her. “I can wait until you get back. But how late? You still have to eat.”

“True.”

“What about a late dinner? Eight o’clock?”

She feels guilty about being less available to him than she had promised. “Yes,” she agrees. “I’ll be there.”

She’s never eaten at Plume before. It is, as she’d said, a fancy restaurant with pretentious dishes and quiet, discrete waiters. Steve arrives before her and apparently has a word with the maître d to get them a table by the window with no other customers seated nearby.

“Thought you’d appreciate the privacy,” he says mildly when she notes that no one else is being seated near them.

“Cute,” she agrees.

It’s almost like a date. In fact, the thought crosses her mind briefly that maybehe thinks that this is a date? Certainly a casual observer would guess so by their nice clothes and behaviour. Steve pulls out her chair for her and stands politely when she gets up to use the bathroom.

“You don’t need to do that,” she tells him, but he shrugs and smiles shyly.

She is uncertain how much he knows that he is being monitored. Sometimes she feels guilty for not telling him that she’s put him in an apartment that is teeming with SHIELD agents and tasked several to report on him to her. Or that she’s asked for regular reports from people who are members of the same gym, or that she has received comments from the experts she’s sent to him.

So although she asks him how things are going, she already has a pretty good idea.

“Health is mostly back to normal,” he answers her query, “in fact probably better now since I was pretty burnt out just before …”

“And you’re managing in your apartment?”

“Yeah.” He says. “It’s a little fancier than I’m used to, but nothing in it I can’t figure out.”

She already knows that he doesn’t use the dishwasher, but it would be creepy to tell him so.

“Dealing with money, paperwork?”

He laughs. “I’m kind of trying to see it as if I’m in a new country, not just a different time. It was like when I was in Europe. We measured everything by what a bottle of wine cost. So if it was 300 francs in France but 10,000 lira in Italy, it wasn’t that it was more expensive in Italy, the money was just different.” He frowns. “I don’t know if that makes sense to you, but …”

Maria travels extensively so this analogy is logical.

They order, they chat about a variety of things, but it's not until dessert that he gets down to the purpose of this 'meeting'.

"I've been talking to agents in the gym," he explains. "I'm not sure if I want to work for SHIELD and if so in what capacity, but I'd like to learn more. I'd like to try it out so to speak."

"You want to try out being a SHIELD agent?"

"I want to try the training and maybe go on a mission or something."

"As Captain America?"

"No, as me. Steve Rogers. For now anyways."

He's nervous, fiddling with his fork and tapping his wine glass.

Maria considers. 

"Do you need to ask Fury?"

"No," she answers, thinking hard. "I can OK this. And I think it's a good idea. There are some things you need to complete before we let you go out into the field."

"Like what?"

She counts on her fingers. "Paperwork - like passports."

"Done. But with a fake birth year."

"Physical."

"Are you kidding?"

She laughs at that. "OK - weapons."

"I've been to the range. Tried a few of the new toys."

"What do you think?"

"Cool. The guns are much lighter and way more accurate."

"Have you actually been checked out on the range?" she asks. "You need someone to sign off that you're up to date. It's an annual thing."

"Um no."

"OK. I can take care of that. What about first aid? And do you have a driver's license?" 

"Um. I know the basics of first aid, but nobody's checked me out on my knowledge. And I know how to drive, but I've never had a license."

She quirks her eyebrow at him.

He shrugs. "Learned when I was in the army. Nobody asked; nobody cared."

She pushes her coffee away. She'd limited herself to one glass of wine, keeping her upcoming flight in mind. She checks her watch.

She's acutely aware that she's left Steve to figure things out more or less on his own despite Fury's direct order. 

"Have you got time tonight?" she asks him. "I mean, the alcohol doesn't affect you, right? We could go out to the range and I could run you through your paces."

"Now? Tonight?"

"Not if you don't want to, but once you've got these things done, you'll have level one security which will give you access to a bunch of things."

"We can do it now? Tonight?"

"I have access," she assures him. "Finish your coffee."

He calls for the check and pays from an enormous roll of cash.

She considers checking that he knows about tipping, but closes her mouth firmly. Another time.


	3. Chapter 3

In the parking garage, he gives her an incredulous look as she invites him into her beloved car - a tiny, banged up hatchback with a rusty bottom.

"I don't mean to be rude," he says wryly. "But maybe I should ask about an agent's salary if this is what you're driving."

"That is very rude," she smiles cheerily, "but you're judging my beloved Amy rather harshly. Ever heard of beauty as skin deep?"

"Amy?"

"Closest thing I'll ever have to a pet."

He settles uneasily into the passenger seat and looks around. She's not sure how many modern cars he's seen yet or whether he'll recognize the special modifications, but he looks amused.

The firing range is closed and securely locked, but deputy directorship grants some privileges. After passing through two biometric scans and having a quick word with one of the human guards, they're permitted access.

She runs him through the mandatory weapons check, asking him to identify and shoot half a dozen different weapons, plus describe the capabilities of another twenty or so. He does it all almost flawlessly. He's done more than just casually shoot a few rounds for sport, she thinks.

When it's over she offers him some advice about his stance. "You're good," she assures him. "But with these lighter weapons, you can afford to drop your shoulder, like so, so to give you more accuracy."

She picks up one of the smaller guns, stands sideways so that she's right in front of him and shoots. Bang, bang, bang, bang. She hits the paper target right where the laser guide says she should - shoulder, chest, hip and knee.

"Perfect," he murmurs, looking impressed.

"Thanks."

The first aid training centre is located at the far end of the range - a logical if somewhat bizarre pairing of skill sets.

"Have you been here before?" Maria asks him. "Have you met George?"

"Err no. I just did the online thing."

She shoots him a quick look.

"What?" he shrugs. "One of the kids showed me when he was explaining the wonders of the Internet. Who's George?"

'George' is an AI dummy used for training people on first aid. Maria wrestles him out of the closet that he lives in and lays him on the ground.

"So we program him," she explains, "and he bleeds and breathes, his pulse goes up and down, his heart rate changes ... you get the picture."

"Uh huh," Steve actually looks excited. "It's a robot."

"Yeah." Maria never thinks of George as one, but clearly Steve as a disillusioned sci-fi nerd from the 40s is enamoured.

She runs him through his paces.

He applies pressure when George appears to be bleeding, applies a tourniquet correctly, gives CPR like a pro ... clearly on the ground training in an actual war zone has its benefits.

He falters when asked to identify the drugs available for treating infections and dealing with pain, but he does well enough that Maria thinks she can pass him.

"Just take a second look at that online course," she recommends. "Make sure you understand everything that's in your kit."

"Most drugs don't work on me," he reminds her.

"The contents of your first aid are mostly for the benefit of your teammates," she answers tartly. "We don't go into the field with paramedics on standby so you'd better be ready to patch them up if something happens."

He nods thoughtfully.

Maria yawns and checks her watch. Oh crikes. "It's late. Let's get going so I can drop you off on my way to the airport."

"I live downtown," he points out. "That's not on the way to the airport."

"No ..."

"I'll catch a taxi home," he insists.

She eyes him thoughtfully. "Did you say that you can drive a stick shift?"

"All the army trucks were stick," he answers warily.

"Why don't you drive me out to airport so I can assess your skill? I can't give you a driver's license - you'll have to go to the DMV for that - but at least I'll know whether you're safe on the road or need a refresher course."

"Are you sure? You said she was your pet."

"Damn right. And I will hurt you if you put any more dents on her."

"How would you know?"

"Watch it."

The roads around the firing range are pretty deserted at three in the morning so the first part of their drive is uneventful.

It doesn't take long for Steve to start giving her sideways grins as he maneuvers 'Amy' around.

"What?"

"I see what you mean about beauty being skin deep," he observes slyly.

"Hmmm?"

"You've made some modifications," he guesses, "way more power at least."

"Yup," she nods sleepily. "And some kick ass defensive tricks that leave James Bond in the dust."

When they arrive at the airport, Steve jumps out to open her door for her.

"You don't need to do that," she reminds him hauling her suitcase out of the back seat.

"I know. So I've been told," he says sadly.

She rubs her eyes. "I'm going to regret this," she says to no-one in particular, "but take Amy. Take her while I'm gone and practise your driving."

"No, no I couldn't."

"Really," Maria insists. "I hate parking her at the airport. How'd you think she got all those dents?"

"You've been too good to me already," Steve says slowly.

"Don't tell anyone," she mutters. "I have a reputation to uphold."

"What are you going to do until your flight?"

"Hang out in the VIP lounge."

"Where are you going again?"

"Can't tell you and you've already asked me."

"Right. Well I guess I wouldn't make a great spy."

"Not your strength," she smiles at him.

He runs his fingers nervously through his hair. "Well have a good flight and thanks for the loan of err Amy."

"Don't let her get banged up."

"No ma'am."


End file.
